The Little Match Girl
By Hans
Christian Andersen
The Little Match Girl, also titled, The Little
Matchstick Girl is one of our Favorite Fairy Tales. Published by Hans Christian Andersen in 1845, it exemplifies his broad
literary talent and ability. I personally like to read this story at least
twice a year, once in Autumn as the holiday season comes into focus, and then
again around the Christmas holiday. It's a gentle reminder of the value of
compassion and charity. The Little Match Girl Study Guide is a resource for teachers and students.
Most terribly cold it was; it snowed, and was nearly
quite dark, and evening-- the last evening of the year. In this cold and
darkness there went along the street a poor little girl, bareheaded, and with
naked feet. When she left home she had slippers on, it is true; but what was
the good of that? They were very large slippers, which her mother had hitherto
worn; so large were they; and the poor little thing lost them as she scuffled
away across the street, because of two carriages that rolled by dreadfully
fast.
One slipper was nowhere to be found; the other had
been laid hold of by an urchin, and off he ran with it; he thought it would do
capitally for a cradle when he some day or other should have children himself.
So the little maiden walked on with her tiny naked feet, that were quite red
and blue from cold. She carried a quantity of matches in an old apron, and she
held a bundle of them in her hand. Nobody had bought anything of her the whole
livelong day; no one had given her a single farthing.
She crept along trembling with cold and hunger--a very
picture of sorrow, the poor little thing!
The flakes of snow covered her long fair hair, which
fell in beautiful curls around her neck; but of that, of course, she never once
now thought. From all the windows the candles were gleaming, and it smelt so
deliciously of roast goose, for you know it was New Year's Eve; yes, of that
she thought.
In a corner formed by two houses, of which one
advanced more than the other, she seated herself down and cowered together. Her
little feet she had drawn close up to her, but she grew colder and colder, and
to go home she did not venture, for she had not sold any matches and could not
bring a farthing of money: from her father she would certainly get blows, and
at home it was cold too, for above her she had only the roof, through which the
wind whistled, even though the largest cracks were stopped up with straw and
rags.
Her little hands were almost numbed with cold. Oh! a
match might afford her a world of comfort, if she only dared take a single one
out of the bundle, draw it against the wall, and warm her fingers by it. She
drew one out. "Rischt!" how it blazed, how it burnt! It was a warm,
bright flame, like a candle, as she held her hands over it: it was a wonderful
light. It seemed really to the little maiden as though she were sitting before
a large iron stove, with burnished brass feet and a brass ornament at top. The
fire burned with such blessed influence; it warmed so delightfully. The little
girl had already stretched out her feet to warm them too; but--the small flame
went out, the stove vanished: she had only the remains of the burnt-out match
in her hand.
She rubbed another against the wall: it burned
brightly, and where the light fell on the wall, there the wall became
transparent like a veil, so that she could see into the room. On the table was
spread a snow-white tablecloth; upon it was a splendid porcelain service, and
the roast goose was steaming famously with its stuffing of apple and dried
plums. And what was still more capital to behold was, the goose hopped down
from the dish, reeled about on the floor with knife and fork in its breast,
till it came up to the poor little girl; when--the match went out and nothing
but the thick, cold, damp wall was left behind. She lighted another match. Now
there she was sitting under the most magnificent Christmas tree: it was still
larger, and more decorated than the one which she had seen through the glass
door in the rich merchant's house.
Thousands of lights were burning on the green
branches, and gaily-colored pictures, such as she had seen in the shop-windows,
looked down upon her. The little maiden stretched out her hands towards them
when--the match went out. The lights of the Christmas tree rose higher and
higher, she saw them now as stars in heaven; one fell down and formed a long
trail of fire.
"Someone is just dead!" said the little
girl; for her old grandmother, the only person who had loved her, and who was
now no more, had told her, that when a star falls, a soul ascends to God.
She drew another match against the wall: it was again
light, and in the lustre there stood the old grandmother, so bright and
radiant, so mild, and with such an expression of love.
"Grandmother!" cried the little one.
"Oh, take me with you! You go away when the match burns out; you vanish
like the warm stove, like the delicious roast goose, and like the magnificent
Christmas tree!" And she rubbed the whole bundle of matches quickly
against the wall, for she wanted to be quite sure of keeping her grandmother
near her. And the matches gave such a brilliant light that it was brighter than
at noon-day: never formerly had the grandmother been so beautiful and so tall.
She took the little maiden, on her arm, and both flew in brightness and in joy
so high, so very high, and then above was neither cold, nor hunger, nor
anxiety--they were with God.
But in the corner, at the cold hour of dawn, sat the
poor girl, with rosy cheeks and with a smiling mouth, leaning against the
wall--frozen to death on the last evening of the old year. Stiff and stark sat
the child there with her matches, of which one bundle had been burnt. "She
wanted to warm herself," people said. No one had the slightest suspicion
of what beautiful things she had seen; no one even dreamed of the splendor in
which, with her grandmother she had entered on the joys of a new year.
With affection
Ruben,
